


kanye

by feverbeats



Category: Fray
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kisses her neck, and she laughs her city laugh, tough and steely and untouchable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kanye

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://ariastar.livejournal.com/profile)[**ariastar**](http://ariastar.livejournal.com/). Creep. (Also, I don't know why it's _called_ that. I think I wrote this when I was a little delirious.)

  
They say the third time's the charm.

Harth has kissed his sister twice, which, incidentally, is the number of times he's tried to end the world. The time, he thinks he'll get it right. Mel thought he was down for the count. The fix didn't take.

Now, they're back in that familiar place, the night before the end of the world. The wind whips Mel's hair around her face, and even on the opposite rooftop, Harth can feel her pulse. It's stuck in his throat. He coughs lightly, staring at her silhouetted body against the neon-bright city.

"Melaka," he says.

"Don't _even_." She always has to fuck up the drama he's been building.

A siren starts up somewhere in the city, and Harth can't get Mel out from behind his eyes when he squeezes them shut. He opens again and sees every details of her laid out with excruciating clarity, even from this distance.

Her hand is on her hip, and one finger is curled around her hipbone. He can hears the two gold earrings in her right ear clink together in the wind. The tattoo that has always reminded him of a nuclear materials warning stands out against a fading bruise. She smiles, and the crazy little scar above her lip twists. He never noticed her nose ring before, but he's sure it's not new.

Check. Check.

He tries to count the colors in her hair, but the wind twists it around, hiding what looks like a green braid.

"C'mere," she calls across the roof, snapping him out of it.

He stares. It's too far. He'll never make it.

"What?" she says. "C'mon, you're a lurk."

He shakes his head, feeling the ghost of her purple-tipped hair against the back of his neck.

She shrugs. "Ok. Let's do this your way." She steps to the edge of the roof.

It's too far. She'll never make it.

She makes it. She flips through the air like nothing should be able to, whipping over to land above Harth, her hands gripping a metal bar over his head.

"You shouldn't have been able to do that," he says, stunned and resentful.

"Tougher every time you fight me," she says, flipping off the bar and landing on her feet. "Betterfasterstronger."

He shivers.

"So," she says, "Time for shoptalk. You want to destroy the world again." She pauses, head cocked. "Fuck, Harth, what is it with that?"

He doesn't answer because he doesn't know. Maybe because the only way he can give her the world is with its head on a platter, gutted.

"Yeah," she says, "We should probably talk about that."

He wonders for a mad second if she's reading his mind. Twins are supposed to be able to do that. The sky above them is irrationally purple, like a bruise. Storm in a box. "Time to dance," he tells her, eyes lighting up.

"Then let's rutting _tango_." She flings herself at him, hair like snakes and eyes like lasers, knocking him down with one touch of her heavy boot.

They roll across the roof, the vampire Slayer and the vampire-Slayer, nails nicking each other's arms and necks, hands fisting in fabric. He can't actually tell where the fight ends and the kiss begins, but that's because the fight _doesn't_ end. Mel's mouth is hot against his, but she's still punching him and digging her fingers into his hip—

Finally, they roll to a stop, up against the edge of the roof. Mel's hair streams over the edge, and the city below them makes her face a backlit blur of streaming color.

Harth's fingers find a loose seam in Mel's shorts and split it. Her skin hums like electricity, the pulse of the city in living color. Worst of all, she _smiling_. He bites her lip a little to stop her, but she just grins wider, like she's the one winning. He wonders if this is what desperation looks like, and he isn't sure, because it's something he's felt but never seen properly from the outside, steady and unblurred.

Mel wraps strong fingers around Harth's hand and guides it against her thigh, up the inside of her leg. He lets her, because there's nothing she can do now to stop the world from ending, and if she wants _this_ to be her last stand, he's sure as hell not going to stop her.

He touches her, pretending this is something he knows how to do, some other kind of destruction, but he's really never been more terrified. He has to get this right, because he wants _everything_ to explode. He must be doing all right, though, because Mel makes a sharp noise and moves against his fingers.

When his eyes are closed, hers are open, and that's not right, that's not how it should be, because she's the one who should be ashamed. But he's always been in love with her, and he's used to having to hide it. She never loved him in the same way, and she doesn't now. They are one step from destruction, from apocalypse. Finger on the button, Harth's finger on Mel's clit.

And she _knows_.

She knows that he's ready to open the mouth of hell, but she opens her mouth instead, and Harth knows better than to call it heaven. Her skin against his is scorching hot, like a laser burn across his chest.

He must feel very cold to her.

It's not fair, of course, because she's the one being cold now, and he's on fire for her, he burns for her as though she's just shoved him off a building into the sun. He kisses her neck, and she laughs her city laugh, tough and steely and untouchable. As though she's the one who could hurt him. He presses the nails of his right hand, his weaker hand, into her hip, but she doesn't gasp. Harth is glad, because he already feels like enough of a creep.

The fingers of his left hand move almost desperately against her clit, probably not gently enough to actually get her off. Good. He doesn't want to, not yet.

He winds his hands in her green braid, but she tugs his fingers away. "Jesu, Mel," he whispers.

"It looks good on you, Harth," she says, tugging his pants down off his skinny hips. "The end of the world. I think it's something you can work with. Really."

He doesn't know if either of them can work with this, but Mel's driving this time _every time_, so he doesn't say anything, just lets her pull him inside her.

She never shuts her eyes. It freaks him out, moving inside her and watching the dark, heavy sky reflected in her eyes. He expected her to look like she had nothing left to lose, but he's not sure that's what's going on.

She smiles at him, not even a smirk. "Well, don't think about it so much." She pulls him down to kiss her, and he doesn't quite know what to _do_ with her tongue in his mouth and the close heat of her body all around him. "Fuck me harder," she whispers into his mouth.

The bright red clock of his brain counts down the seconds, bright and blinking, until hell will burst out into the cityscape. Mel breathes in sharply, tugging Harth against her. Somehow, in those few crucial seconds, he loses count of the countdown, and everything in the world is the color of Mel's hair and the taste of her sweat.

When the rain starts, Harth knows something is wrong. Mel's head snaps back, and the water drenches her instantly. He realizes she's laughing again.

"What—"

She shakes her head, pulling away. He misses her body's heat. "Fucking to save the world," she says, sticking a safety pin through the ripped shorts. "Oldest trick in the book. My friends will have closed your Hellmouth by now."

He didn't even know she had friends. "Was it good for you?" he whispers, dazed.

"Yes," she says, frowning. "I'm not enough of a dick to lie about it."

And then she's gone, a digital angel into a dark sky where the pinks and purples of destruction are blowing away, melting into the color of her hair.


End file.
